A Good Old Book
by Caitirin
Summary: Crowley's adventures in old book shops, trying to find a certain something for a certain someone.


Crowley felt so out of place that he was certain that everyone was staring at him. This was probably because everyone WAS staring at him. He pulled at his collar uncomfortably and adjusted his sunglasses.

There were ten old ladies in the bookshop and every single one of them had turned their grey-blue haired heads and looked straight at him when he'd opened the door, it had a bell attached. Crowley was doing his utmost not to notice the stares that he got as he continued into the store. He eyed one particular old woman that tilted her head and smiled widely at him. Crowley attempted to smile back, so as to get away, but it came off more as a desperate grimace. He side stepped the legion of old ladies and fled into the back of the bookstore.

Normally Crowley wouldn't have been caught dead, though he was a demon and technically couldn't be dead, after so many years around humans their speech patterns tended to rub off on you, in an old bookstore, unless it was Aziraphale's bookstore, which this wasn't. In point of fact, he would be hard pressed to be seen in Aziraphale's bookstore either, he did his level best to steal Aziraphale out of the bookstore whenever possible, when they had need of a chat, or just something to drink.

In any case, Crowley felt about as out of place in this bookshop as he imagined he would feel if he were vacationing in heaven. He smoothed his sleeve as he brushed past a display of disintegrating books and he made a distasteful face at the dust that he got on his hand. He needed to get what he'd come for and get the he.. ah just get out of this place.

He approached the bookseller in the back corner. "Excuse me. I believe you have a certain book here…"

The bookseller didn't look up at him from the mending job that he was doing. "We have lots of books here, young man. We are a rare book dealer. I'm not so sure we have anything that you would like."

Crowley narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses. He felt his fingers twitching. He decided that it would be a bad idea to snap in here. He cleared his throat. "Yes, as I was saying. I believe you have a certain book that I wish to purchase." He pulled a carefully handwritten note from a pocket inside his coat. It was Aziraphale's handwriting. Crowley remembered that Aziraphale had once mentioned dearly wishing to own the book.

Crowley had decided that he could find it. If he'd realized just how insane it was going to be to locate one measly old rotting book, he would never have taken up the quest. Once he had started looking, and started not finding it, his pride had taken over and he had cursed and sworn that he would not be thwarted by a mere BOOK!

Four of his houseplants had died of fear that evening.

The bookseller looked up at the note with a patiently annoyed look. Crowley was starting to wonder if all booksellers, of old and rotting books, specialized in driving away customers. It went against any kind of sense that Crowley could come up with, but then, so did a lot of things Aziraphale did, and Crowley lumped old book sellers into that category as well.

"This is a very old book, young man." The old ladies were clustering around now. Straining forward to learn some secretive thing, some snippet of gossip that they could take to tea. Crowley's left eye started to twitch.

"I wish to purchase it. If you would be so kind as to get it. I've been looking for fifteen hun… err fifteen years. I'm willing to pay for it."

The old man didn't seem inclined to move. Crowley wanted to hiss at him, but bit his tongue (which hurt, incidentally). Instead, he dropped down a large amount of money.

The old man responded to that. He got up and tottered into the back room and returned with an ancient book. He set it down on the counter and began to open it to illustrate its various merits.

Crowley lifted the man's hands off of it. "Yes. Yes. Lovely. Goodbye." Crowley snatched up the book and nearly sprinted out of the shop. The Bentley was waiting for him outside. He tossed the book, or was about to, when he imagined Aziraphale going a shade of green in his head, at the very idea of throwing about a book like this. He placed it carefully on the seat and then pulled out into traffic, nearly running down a nun, he'd almost hit her, but he was in a hurry. He wanted to get as far away from that bookshop as he could get. He could deal with the nuns later.

He pushed a tape into the player and listened to Beethoven's 5th. Or at least what used to be Beethoven's fifth. It sounded suspiciously different than it had when he'd first gotten it. He shifted into gear and smiled. It was a beautiful car and Crowley was most proud of it, and the way that it was in perfect condition still.

Aziraphale looked up. "Crowley? I didn't expect to see you. Harassowitz was meant to stop in for a delivery today." Aziraphale smiled. "Please, come in, how are you? It's been a hundred years."

"Two hundred actually, or hadn't you noticed the second half them?" Crowley set down a rectangular cloth wrapped parcel on the table.

Aziraphale blinked at it. "It's good to see you. What… is that?" He gestured towards the book. Aziraphale always gestured to indicate things. Pointing just wasn't polite, they'd one had an extended debate over the principle of pointing. Crowley had the distinct feeling that he'd lost, and so he never brought it up again.

"Ahh this? Just a book." Crowley smiled.

Aziraphale's eyes widened. "Book? Anything… in particular?"

Crowley was milking this for all it was worth. "Oh just some old thing I found, somewhere."

"Crowley!"

He laughed and flashed a brilliant smiled at Aziraphale. "Okay, so it's for you. I dug it up the other day."

Aziraphale carefully unwrapped the cloth around it and then nearly dropped it when he saw what it was. "Crowley! You didn't just… dig this up. There can't be… more than… ten copies in the entire world! This must have taken you ages." Aziraphale did some mental mathematics and then stared at Crowley. "I only mentioned this to you once… and it was fifteen hundred years ago."

Crowley smiled and pretended to examine his fingernails. "Ah, well I… just happened to run into it. I figured it was old… you're old… and it was a book. Thought I'd get it."

Aziraphale smiled warmly and touched Crowley's hand. "It's wonderful. Thank You, Crowley."

Crowley just smiled. "You're welcome, Aziraphale."


End file.
